


Visualize

by hanyou_elf



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:44:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Imagination has always had powers of resurrection that no science can match." ~Ingrid Bengis</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visualize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chiara](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Chiara).



_Imagination has always had powers of resurrection that no science can match. ~Ingrid Bengis_

It isn't until after the crazy business in McAllister that Derek is finally able to talk to Reid. It's hard, but he does it, because he wants to, he needs to. He's spilled his guts about his own nightmares, the things that haunt him in the dark, and he left things lay like that. And he knows how hard it must have been for Reid to come to him. To say something about the nightmares that plague. He knows that Reid is a strong man, but even the strong have to accept help once in a while.

Gideon gives great advice. He did when Derek came to him seeking advice. Focusing on the men and women he'd saved was helpful. But Reid was different. He needed more clinical, logical explanations and solutions. He needed something rooted in science.

At least, that was how Derek was justifying standing at Reid's motel room door in the middle of the night in the midst of a case when he should be sleeping in the motel room he'd been assigned. He knocked, and waited impatiently for Reid to answer.

"Morgan?" he asked. His face scrunches in confusion as he looks down the hall, trying to see everyone else. No doubt he thinking this was about the case.

"Remember how you told me about those nightmares you had before McAllister?" He nods slowly, his eyes narrowed in curiosity, trying to puzzle this out. "Normally, I'd use a cd or something, but I don't have one with me. Can I come in?"

"Yeah. But, what are you talking about?"

"It's called guided imagery, Reid. And I want to walk you through it."

He nods and moves to sit in the single chair. "Why?"

"Because it helps me when Gideon's reminder doesn't." Derek smiles a trusting smile. "This is just between us. The others don't know. And even Gideon thinks he's helped me the most. But he hasn't. This is good though."

"Okay." Reid just gives in. And as Derek looks, he can see the dark circles that are lingering beneath his co-worker's eyes. He's exhausted, worn out and he needs a solution, or he won't last long.

"Lay down on the bed. This is how it started for me, and I'll do it for you, to make this as easy as possible."

"Alright," Reid breathes. He toes his socks- blue and red- off and curls up on the bed, comfortable and snuggled in.

Derek lays his hand on Reid's forehead, dark fingers playing through wet chestnut hair. Usually, Reid wears his hair so slicked back and stiff, Derek never would have thought it'd be so soft. "Close your eyes." When the slender man does so, Derek speaks slowly. His voice is pitched to the tone that he would normally reserve for women and children he was trying to carry away someplace safe. "Imagine a place that's perfectly safe, that's comfortable. Imagine just what this place would be like. With this image in mind, let your body relax."

He speaks slowly, enunciating his words as he walks Reid through visualizing his safest place. It's a place of comfort, so Reid can find his center, so he can relax and get some sleep. He needs to be able to take a breath and stop his brain from working in overtime, so that his body can recover from the stresses of the job.

When Derek finishes nearly half an hour later, Reid is curled into a tight ball, his face relaxed with sleep. Derek's voice is a bit scratchier, but it's worth it if Reid can grab at least five or six hours. Before he leaves, he texts the younger man, letting him know that it would happen every time Reid needed it, for as long as Derek could provide.

-.-.-.-

It's been nearly four months since the incident with Tobias Hankel. Nearly four months since Spence shot the man at the side of what would have been his own grave if he'd been a weaker man. Four months since his boy had had a peaceful night's sleep.

The bad thing was that when Derek tries to get his boyfriend, but not lover because they don't have sex, to relax in the bed beside him, the visualization technique that he normally uses just doesn't work. It's like Spencer's become immune to it. He doesn't even hear Derek's soft murmurs.

And the lack of sleep is starting to take a negative toll on his pretty boy. Spence is getting combative. He's snapping at everything and everyone, and Derek's ready to take a week off with him and force Spence back on the straight and narrow. They are heading out to New Orleans, and Derek thinks that after they get back, he'll have to talk to Hotch about it.

In the meantime, he pulls Spence to the side and hands his boyfriend a small mp3 player and his own oversized headphones. "I want you to listen to this while we're flying down," he says softly. It's firm enough that there isn't room for arguing, though he doesn't think Spence would waste the effort. "Why don't you sit with me, and I'll scratch your head while we're flying so you can relax before we jump in?"

"Is it really that bad?"

"Sorry pretty boy, but everyone's afraid for you, and I'm not going to watch you let that bastard win."

He sighs and closes those pretty hazel eyes and nods. "Fine. I'll listen."

On the plane thirty minutes later, Spence is leaning against his side, head on his shoulder while he fiddles with the mp3 player, turning it on and starting the new guided imagery he's found. There is discrete honor in the fact that Derek gave him the headphones. Nobody else on the plane needs to know how his boyfriend finds peace. This is something that Spencer needs, something that he needs to be kept private. He doesn't need the team he works with to know how much he needs it.

With his eyes closed, his body relaxes as Derek's voice fills his ears and drags him along. Derek smiles slightly as he feels the subtle gaining of weight as Spencer listens for longer and longer. This imagery is about flashbacks. The point is to remind Spence that he's safe. That the physical world around him is what's real, not what his mind is recalling. And with that, hopefully, Spencer will take the initiative to talk to his boyfriend and work past what happened.

-.-.-.-

This is the fifth or sixth day that Spence is almost completely out of commission since the migraines started earnestly. He suffers in silence, his body curled into as small a ball as it can make while in the middle of their bed, his eyes clenched tight while the room is darkened as much as possible. It's the position of the vulnerable. Of a man in pain, and Derek's ready this time. He slips his socks and shirt and jeans off before he climbs into the bed behind his lover.

Spencer whimpers pathetically and rolls over to bury his face in Derek's neck.

"Hey, sit up with me, I got something I want to try," Derek murmurs gently, trying and failing to keep the sound of laughter out of his voice. The snuggle monster that is a sick Spencer is rare, and Derek likes this. But he'd rather not have it and a healthy Spence.

His pretty boy groans as he sits up and falls heavily against Derek, back to chest. His head, with his newly shorn locks falls back to rest on Derek's shoulder, and his face is turned into Derek's neck. If Spence didn't feel bad, this would quickly become something else. But, Derek wouldn't take advantage of his sick lover.

"Close your eyes babe, I'm going to walk you through this until we figure out what's doing this to you. First is easy stretching."

As he explains what he's doing, Derek's hands guide Spence's head gently through the exercises. His large hand is warm against Spencer's cool cheek. He hopes his palm isn't sweating, but he knows that it probably is a bit. He stretches Spencer's neck to the left and can't stop himself from placing a teasingly soft kiss to the long column of porcelain skin. He repeats the process to the right and then to the nape of his neck as he moves Spencer's head slowly and methodically through the recommended exercises he meticulously memorized.

Satisfied that Spencer's as loose as he's going to get, he turns his attention to the script he's found online. It's simple. He guides his lover through the relaxation process and uses his hands to help enhance. When they do this, when Derek walks Spencer through these imagery walks, his dark hand is always in Spencer's hair, tangled in the chestnut mess as he strokes and soothes his lover. He knows that Spencer is suffering with his headache, and he knows that there's nothing much that he can do. But this will help. And perhaps, when the headache has dulled to a manageable level, Derek'll convince his lover to see a doctor.

He knows that Spence is terrified of something being seriously wrong, but he won't let the thin man continue to suffer if he doesn't have to. It's stubborn and hardheaded. He uses the pause given in the script, when Spence is supposed to be at the height of his relaxation to drop a kiss to the temple on his lover's left. He can't stop the brief thought: _Be nice to my boy!_ as he does so, but he doesn't care. Spencer doesn't deserve the pain.

Almost forty-five minutes after they started, Spencer is curled against Derek, but it's relaxed, his eyes aren't squinted shut as he attempts to block out all sources of light. He breathes easier and his body is looser. The imagery worked, and it's a damned good thing too.

"Babe, you gotta see somebody."

"I know Derek. I got an appointment tomorrow afternoon."


End file.
